


i don't know how to be sweet like you

by plummuffins



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, after a fight, based on a convo in the granny phannies gc, here you go shan nat and den, i did the thing, lol, married phan, mid tour stuff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-08
Updated: 2018-07-08
Packaged: 2019-06-07 04:06:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,523
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15210596
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/plummuffins/pseuds/plummuffins
Summary: Dan has to say he's sorry. Feelings ensue.





	i don't know how to be sweet like you

**Author's Note:**

> my dear friends asked me to write something so i did my best but it's 3am now so i'm sorry  
> yes it's short and un-beta'd again i did my best let me Rest

_ Drip. Drip. Drip. _

The water was cold by now, each drip from the faucet sending tiny ripples through the lukewarm sea, brushing against the islands made of two human knees. The bathbomb had long since fizzled out, leaving its black and glittery residue to mostly settle to the bottom of the porcelain tub or stick to the rest of the fleshy islands. Dan let out a sigh, debating whether or not he should reach his foot up to kick the hot water back on and stay in the tub for another two hours, but his skin felt pruny and all he wanted to do was be dry and wrapped up in a warm blanket. So, with the steady creak of twenty-something year old joints, he unfolded himself from his awkward position, unstopping the drain before grabbing his towel and stepping out of the water. He watched the glitter-mess swirl down the drain for a moment before toweling off and putting on deliciously warm pj pants and one of Phil’s shirts. Dan didn’t actually notice it was Phil’s shirt until he was drying his hair while looking in the mirror, cringing at the dark circles under his eyes which only accentuated the redness indicative of his hours spent crying uselessly in the bath. Unwilling to take the shirt off despite whose it was, the young British man let out another sigh and left the sterile, cold bathroom, making his way into the lounge. 

The lounge was empty, the dim light from the hallway illuminating it in an eerie way, reminiscent of childhood days when darkness was the worst thing he had to fear. Faintly he could hear the sound of the downstairs lounge’s TV and he let out a breath he didn’t know he had been holding. That meant Phil had stayed, instead of leaving like Dan had screamed at him to hours ago when they had their fight. He never meant it when he said things like that, but harsh words always seemed to tumble out of him mouth when he felt the suffocating panic of losing the man he loved. Of course his mind would function on the “push them away before they push you away” cliche, how typically and pathetically Dan. After ten years of constant love, support, and companionship, he’d think his brain would have moved past its hang-ups and insecurities, but it just seemed like he’d always struggle with this particular flaw. 

He ran his hand through his hair and walked to the stairs, lingering at the top of them. Desperately he wanted to go down, walk over to Phil and tell him he was sorry, beg for another re-do for what felt like the millionth time. But there it was again, the numbing, consuming panic. What if this time Phil didn’t want to hear him say he was sorry? Could he handle facing the love of his life and seeing the cold wall he feared in those ice-blue eyes--watching his lips drawn tight and he handed back the ring they exchanged two years ago in Japan? A writhing horror squirmed in his stomach as his toes tingled with pins and needles and he felt himself sway, nearly lightheaded with the flood of anxiety. He knew it was pointless to fear--he had to trust Phil to love him like Dan promised he would when Phil first proposed to him. But the sensation of this choice to go down and face him, to be bare and honest and trusting, was like looking over a precipice at a lake littered with boulders while trying to plan a safe trajectory. Biting the inside of his mouth and inhaling sharply, Dan put one foot on the first stair, hearing it creak slightly under his weight. The sound was so real, tangible, and present that it seemed to jolt him from the gaping maw of unnecessary anxiety and he flung himself down the rest of the stairs, nearly out of breath when he reached the bottom landing. The light from the TV bounced off the glass walls of the office and he couldn’t help a smile when he took in the sight of a sleeping Phil on the sofa illuminated by a dramatic scene from Kill Bill 2, the volume so low he could barely make out the dialogue from where he stood. 

Dan moved closer, looking down at his husband and feeling his heart twist when he saw the red around the older man’s eyes which mirrored his own. Fights always felt foolish and horrible in the aftermath, and he briefly wished he had drowned in his bath for ever making someone as beautiful as Phil Lester cry. Dan licked his dry lips and picked up a blanket, spreading it over Phil’s long body as gently as he could, but the other man still stirred, squinting up at Dan blearily. 

“Dan?” he said huskily before yawning and sitting up, wrapping the blanket around his shoulders. His voice was rough from the crying, eliciting another twist in Dan’s heart as he sat down on the sofa, looking down at his hands uncomfortably. 

“Did you have a nice bath?” Phil asked slowly after a few minutes of silence, save for the faint fighting in the movie. There wasn’t anything malicious about the question--there never was with Phil--he was too kind to mean it in any sardonic way.

It made Dan’s lip quiver and he bit it to still it, hoping to stop the tears before they came again. “Y-yeah,” he said with a cracking voice, hoarse from not only crying but from unnecessary screaming. “Phil,” he began after taking a few deep breaths, “I’m sorry, I--”

“No,” Phil interrupted and for a moment Dan felt the beast of anxiety breathing on the back of his neck, waiting to sink its teeth in again while it whispered that all his fears would come true. But they didn’t, because Phil Lester loved him and Dan would never understand why. “I’m sorry, Dan. I shouldn’t have pushed things, not with how tired we both are from the first half of tour.” 

What was the fight about again? Dan had nearly forgotten, so wrapped up in all the stress of the aftermath as he was, and suddenly he remembered again. Phil had wanted to film two more gaming videos after the Geo Guesser one, but Dan didn’t think they should. He had already thought they didn’t have the same energy or chemistry in that video, so changing clothes two more times for two more videos they were clearly too exhausted to make seemed foolish. He’d started off by saying it was dumb, but when Phil argued back about the cost of travel and food and gas in America, Dan snapped on him about the memes, how their fans called him capital-Lester, making it seem like all he cared for was money. He didn’t mean it, but he was tired and knew if he pulled something mean out of his ass then Phil might back off, but he hadn’t. And so Dan acted out like he always did, dissolving the fight into one of his many insecurities and screaming at his husband until Phil had left the room, a hurt look twisting his features. But… “It wasn’t okay,” he murmured allowed, finishing his train of thought. “It doesn’t matter what you think you said or did, Phil. The way I treated you wasn’t okay.”

Phil was quiet for a moment but when a new tear finally slipped from Dan’s eyes, his husband scooted closer, reaching a hand out to lift Dan’s chin and meet his eyes. “It’s okay now,” he almost whispered, his tone sweet and gently. There was that crinkle around his eyes that was like a silent  _ I love you _ whenever Dan saw it, and it made him clench his jaw to keep from sobbing. “I love you, Daniel Howell. No matter how much you hate yourself, no matter what your demons tell you, there is nothing that will stop me loving you.”

He couldn’t help it now, reaching out and embracing Phil, practically climbing into his lap while the tears flowed. “Bloody hell,” he half laughed, pressing his face into the crook of his husband’s neck and breathing in what he could of his familiar smell through his runny nose. “I don’t know how to be sweet like you, Phil. You’re too good for me.”

Phil scoffed quietly, pressing a kiss to the side of Dan’s face before nuzzling him back. “You just need to eat more sweets until sugar becomes your blood,” he joked lightly, pulling Dan so they were laying together on the sofa, snuggling as well as their long limbs would let them under the throw blanket Dan had brought over earlier. They watched the end of the movie like that while Dan ran his fingers up and down Phil’s arm, marveling in the tender sensation of ruffling the hairs along its length. They’d doubtlessly have fights after this one, but he’d always end up like this, tangled up with the man he loves with Uma Thurman in the background.


End file.
